


Trust Me

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Series: Fruit of Eden [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ORIGINALLY POSTED: March 08, 2010</p>
<p>Dean is confused by the Devil and Sam’s life slowly starts spiraling into yet another soap opera …</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

The first thing Dean notices when he pokes his head out the motel room door to check on his baby is … nothing. She’s fine. Parked right where she’d been when they arrived. 

The second thing Dean notices is the fact there is a rather tall, blonde haired male visitor leaning against the passenger side door. Huh. Ok. Not totally out of the ordinary, but definitely not something you want to be confronted with at what-the-fuck thirty in the morning. So, being the cautious individual he is, he grabs the nearest handgun (it was sitting on the table), keeps his hand close to his hip, and slips out the door.

“Can I help you with something?”

The lanky blonde stranger turns slightly, acknowledging his presence. “Ah … Dean.”

That prompts a raised eyebrow. “How the fuck do you know my name?” 

“How? I’ve only known of you for several millennia.” The answer is easy, slipping off the man’s tongue effortlessly.

_Oh shit. Oh shitshitshitshitshitshit._

Not a man. Angel. Archangel. Oh fuck. How did he get here?

“Ok, you asshole. Do not take a single step, got it? You are not getting any closer.” By now, Dean has the gun at the ready, leveled directly at Satan’s head.

The archangel just gave him a dubious look. “A .45, Dean? Really, I’m considering taking that as an insult.”

Dean’s eyes widened fractionally, not really processing the comment until a few moments later. _Wait … did he just … crack a joke?_

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you need to get the fuck out of here. Like, five minutes ago.” The hunter’s brow furrows, his grip tightening on the gun. “Either take us all out like I know you’re planning to, or scat. You’re not getting anywhere near Sammy.”

Lucifer gives a suspiciously familiar eye roll, then holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “I have already told your dear brother, and now I’ll tell you. Firstly, I’m not here to harm anyone. Second, I’m here to talk to Sam. Not you.”

All those patiently delivered words only earn him another glare.

“Oh yeah? And who says I’m letting you anywhere near Sammy?” Dean retorts, gun still held at the ready.

The archangel’s already frayed patience is wearing thin and he throws the hunter a sneer. “And you really think a human with a _gun_ is going to stop me from saying my piece? “

Dean almost flinches at that, suddenly reminded of just how very one-sided the whole situation is. He’s pointing a fucking .45 at the Devil. The Colt didn’t even work on the bastard. What the Hell was this piece of crap going to do?

“Dean. Put the useless weapons away, go inside, and tell your brother I want to speak with him.” Lucifer waves a mildly annoyed hand at him.

The hunter stares, almost silently asking ‘Did you just _shoo_ me?!’ 

“Yes, I did just ‘shoo’ you, so move along. Before I decide to recant on my ‘no harming anyone’ policy.” The archangel’s smirk is almost audible.

“Yeah, fuck you too, _Luci_.” Dean bites out scathingly, flipping the Devil the bird before turning and stalking back to the room, frustratingly unable to parse the sheer absurdity of the whole situation.

_Lucifer is lounging against MY car. He’s the DEVIL. And he just essentially promised he wasn’t here to hurt anybody. Angels don’t lie. What the fuck is happening to my life?_

He’s so completely engrossed in the mind-numbing idea that Satan might actually be getting curious about humanity, that he doesn’t realize Cas is standing in front of him until he actually runs into the angel. Castiel doesn’t make much noise, but Dean huffs out a surprised breath, that was most certainly _not_ a squeak, like he just ran into a brick wall. Which, considering he did just run into an angel, was a pretty good comparison. 

“Is everything alright, Dean?” And there’s that goddamn _head tilty_ thing again. It simultaneously drove Dean up a wall and actually made him think Cas was kind of cute.

_Wait … did he … no … he did not just say Cas was cute … oh_ fuck.

“Yeah … yeah. Everything’s fine, Cas.” Dean quickly smoothes _that_ little hiccup over with the appropriate amount of bravado. “Your big brother just wants to have a heart-to-heart with Sammy.”

The angel frowns, obviously already aware of Lucifer’s arrival, but seemingly unperturbed. 

Dean just raises an eyebrow at him. _Does everyone know something today that I don’t?_ he seemed to ask, expression ultimately frustrated and apparently thinking about shifting into one of Sam’s patented bitchfaces.

Upon receiving no answer from Castiel, aside from that wide-eyed stare that felt like the angel was looking straight into his fucking soul, Dean moves away and shakes the gangly sasquatch tangled in the covers awake.

“Sammy … _Sammy_ ,” the elder Winchester hisses, shoving at his brother’s shoulder. “Get your lazy ass up … your archangel wants to talk to you.”

Sam is wide awake at that, sitting up almost fast enough to clock Dean across the forehead, prompting a startled “Christ, Sam!” from the older hunter.

He gives his brother wide-eyed look, scrambling about to pull on his sweats, then struggle into a t-shirt. “Dude … you let him stay here?? Wait … he didn’t kill you? Holy crap …”

“Sammy. Slow the fuck down and talk rationally, please. My brain can’t handle your trains of thought this early in the morning.” Dean complains, now throwing his brother a practiced bitchface.

Sam sticks out his tongue and makes a rude noise.

Finally, he’s actually fit to walk outside and almost makes it to the door before turning and giving Dean a shrewd look.

“So … why didn’t he kill you?”

“He said I insulted him by having a .45 instead of some impressive angelic weapon he probably thinks Cas would give me. Then he said he’s ‘not here to harm anyone’.” Dean lifts both hands and air-quotes appropriately.

“You serious?” Sam’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

“Dead serious, Sammy.”

“So … where is he?”

Dean makes a pained sound. “On _my_ car.”

If possible, Sam’s eyebrows climb higher. “ _On_ the Impala?”

The elder hunter jerks a thumb at the window and Sam chances a look out, only to be greeted with the sight of the archangel still lounging nonchalantly against the passenger’s side door, looking almost identical to the phantom, too-far-away figure in his dream. Even down to the rumpled clothes and … tousled hair …

…… oh _fuck_.


End file.
